


too good to be good for me

by orphan_account



Category: tronnor - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Shower Sex, Tronnor, cause troye wants to bottom!¡, connor wears panties fuck me up, dom!troye, fluffy cuteness, gay boy kisses hNg, hungover struggles™, i have sinned, i seriously can't tag pls help, it's a mess but it's cute, my chapters are short af sorry, paternal!connor, real true loVe, troye is wasted oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love you."<br/>"You're wasted."</p><p>A story about tequila and hangovers and sex and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. poured over ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> troye is a wasted lil lightweight

As soon as I get the door open his mouth is on mine. It's a messy kiss, wet, noses clashing. I can taste the tequila and cigarette smoke on him. He smells like an ashtray. I pull away to look at him.  
"You're wasted." Troye looks too bright, like he'd been redrawn with heavier lines and saturated color. His lips are big and dark and I immediately wonder if he'd kissed anyone else tonight. His mouth opens into a giggle. The door to our apartment is still wide open behind him. I herd him inside to close it. He feels warm and his voice is liquid. I don't like it when he gets this drunk. It erases the parts of him that I fell in love with and brings him home like this. I don't like to go out with him anymore. I'll nurse a couple of old fashioneds while he slams shot after shot, until he's inebriated and his face opens up. Boys will sidle up to him and my breathing will get tight and shallow until he slurs "I have a boyfriend." So I stay home and worry that he doesn't say that when I'm not around, and he goes out and gets off his face. He's such a lightweight, shouldn't be able to handle drinking like he does. I think it's a coping mechanism, for the fame thing. Touring left him exhausted and stressed and he overcompensates with tequila shots. I wish that I was his coping mechanism instead. Troye takes a step and falls against me.  
"Connor!" His voice is bubbly and warm and higher than it usually is.  
"Let's get you in the shower, okay?" I can't be mad at him. Not when he's hanging onto me and giggling like a kid and covering my face and neck with his sloppy kisses. I help him strip off and run the water cold to try to curb the awful hangover he'll have tomorrow. He's holding my hand like he's scared to get lost. He's so small.  
"Are you mad at me?" His voice has lost its bubbliness and it makes my heart break.  
"No, Troye, I'm not mad." A devilish smile stretches across his face.  
"Then get in the shower with me." Another thing that happens when he's wasted: he gets overtly sexual.  
"You've had way too much to drink. Not right now." He pouts, batting his extraordinarily long eyelashes. And before I knew it, he's reached out and grabbed my dick through my jeans. Goddamnit, Troye. Barely managing to stifle a groan of both frustration and pleasure, I push his hand off me. That boy knows how to push all of my buttons.  
"Get in the shower," I'm determined to not let him see my growing hard on. I think he may have one too, but I'm not going to look at his naked dick right now. I turn to leave, blushing.  
"I love you." I stop in my tracks, all the blood in my body rushing to my head. He did not just say what I thought I heard. We hadn't said that to each other, not yet. My stomach is kicking from nerves and excitement. I shouldn't be excited, I know. He won't remember saying that tomorrow. I don't turn around.  
"You're wasted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I really love to write drunk troye. lemme know in the comments if you enjoyed it!


	2. all I need is you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poor Troye is so hungover and Connor is his lil caretaker

I wake up to the sound of Troye throwing up in the master bathroom. My heart lurches in pity. Poor lightweight boy. He slept fitfully next to me, babbling in his sleep. I couldn't doze off until the early hours of the morning because _he told me he loved me_. I'm lurched out of my dazed reverie by a particularly violent puking noise. My stomach kicks with nausea, but I need to go take care of him.

_He said he loved me._

_Not now, Connor._

I drag myself out of bed, bumping my hip on the bedside table. I can see the imprint that Troye's body made on the mattress.

_I love him._ _So much. Too much._

_Stop it. Not now_.

"I'm coming, Troye." He whimpers softly and the toilet flushes. When I get to the bathroom he's laying on the ground, cheek pressed on the cool tile. He's a train wreck, skin pale and blotchy, hair matted with something that looks like vomit. I have to look away to avoid gagging as I wipe it out with a washcloth. I still want to kiss him. I always want to kiss him. 

"I feel empty." Troye moans into the floor. I reach out to rub his back, in circles over the shoulder blades the way he likes it. 

"That's not surprising, considering how much you've puked." I comb through his tangled curls with my fingers. He closes his eyes, presumably to make the room stop spinning. He sneezes suddenly, a high, sharp noise that's so adorable it makes me giggle. Then another three times in quick succession, and it's so fucking cute that I'm tearing up. He opens one eye to glare at me and closes it again. 

"Do you need anything?" I'm almost surprised at how soft and sympathetic my voice gets. I'm fairly certain that it's only like that with him. 

"Ginger ale?" He murmurs, not opening his eyes. 

"I'll be right back." I grab a liter of the soda out of the fridge and return to find him, face in the toilet, vomiting.

"Oh, baby..." I kneel next to him and hold back his hair just in case. The first few times he got this hungover I couldn't be in the room while he threw up because my stomach was so sensitive. I've gotten more used to it now. He sits up, wiping his mouth. He looks miserable. I resist the urge to say 'I told you so', because no matter how many times I warn him about getting this wasted, he goes and does it again. Sometimes I think he might have a drinking problem. I push the thought to the back of my mind. He's 21 and a popstar and of _course_ he's gonna get drunk sometimes. And it's not like he's coming home like that every night. He burrows into me, warm and exhausted. And I wonder again if he remembers what he said last night. 

He pukes some more and knocks back the whole liter of ginger ale and sleeps like the dead for a few hours. He wakes up looking marginally better, with color in his face. His eyes aren't too bright anymore. He looks like Troye again. I sat on the bed next to him, laptop balanced on my knees, because I didn't want to leave him alone. I never want to leave him alone. 

"I think something died in my mouth," Troye moans. I pass him my water, grinning. 

"Next time don't get so drunk that you puke for three hours." I say. Gently. 

"Tyler made me take shots until I stopped worrying about work. So, a lot of shots." He looks sheepish. "I feel a lot better now though."

"You should maybe take a shower." I remark, grinning. 

"Are you telling me I smell?"

"You do." He hits me with the back of his hand, giggling. 

"Fine. Why don't you get in there with me this time?" I never knew someone that small and innocent-looking could smile like that. Like he's undressing me with his eyes. My face gets hot, and I can tell that my ears are ten shades of red. 

"Maybe I will." My sexy voice is nothing compared to his. His is deep, always deeper than I expect to be, and it's _raspy,_ maybe from throwing up, but it sends shivers down my spine. 

Then I realize what he said. _This time_. Meaning that he remembers the last time he asked me to shower with him. Minutes before he said he loved me. And if he remembers saying that... Troye is looking at me strangely and I realize I'm staring blankly at him, trying to comprehend everything. He takes my hand is his soft, delicate one. 

"C'mon. You're the one who thinks I smell." He makes that sound hot. It's over for me. 

 

 

 


	3. wrap your body around mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the sex chapter and I'm writing it while looking at the bible quotes my grandma has on her wall. I love this life of sin.

He has me pressed against the bathroom wall, my face in his hands, kissing me. He's leading with his jaw and his tongue is driving me wild and my jeans are getting tight under him. I moan into his mouth. God, his mouth. When we first got together his mouth never left mine. He gave me hickeys up and down my neck and chest. A little later on, my thighs fell prey as well. That mouth can do a lot. His hand is up my sweatshirt and mine is on his ass. His hands are cool and he's got the prettiest fingers in the world. They're long and thin and, holy shit, can they do things to me. Troye moans into my neck, loud and raspy. He's always so vocal, and I'm quiet. I stick my hand down his pants just to hear him moan again. He sounds strung out and his voice is rough, rougher than it ever is. I could listen to his voice all day. The shower is on and the room is getting steamy. Literally and figuratively. Troye breaks away reluctantly to dig around in the cabinets for condoms and lube. His ass is in the air and my face is getting hotter and hotter. He lets out a triumphant little squeal and comes up clutching the necessities. He's got his sultry smile on, the one that could make me cum in my pants. Between the smile and his raspy voice, I don't think he could make me any hornier than I already am, until he peels off his t-shirt. He's such a skinny boy, his stomach tiny and defined and fucking adorable. It's too much for me, and I grab him around the waist and kiss his jawline. He giggles, his eyes lighting up. In moments like this I can't believe that this is my boyfriend, that this is the man I get to kiss and hold and love. 

He pulls my top over my head and rests his palms flat on my chest.

"Connor?"  
"Yes?"  
"Take off your pants." I do. I'd jump off a bridge if he told me too. He gasps.  
"Oh my god, Connor." His voice is a breathy moan. I look down and realize that I'm wearing a pair of lacy panties that I got as a gag gift at some party. Oh. I need to do some washing. My first reaction is to be embarrassed, but then I realize that Troye likes them. Really likes them. He's staring at me, palming himself through his jeans unconsciously. I can tell that my ears are blazing at the attention. 

"God, you're hot," he breathes. I'm so red, I know it. He kisses me, even more roughly this time. He sticks his hand into the panties, causing me to sigh in pleasure and push into the pressure. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls them off. I kick them off my feet to the ground. He sidles over to the counter to grab the box of condoms. Even his walk is ungluing me. Before I know what's happening, he's slid a condom onto my dick and I'm bucking into his light touch. 

"What? Troye-"  
"I want to bottom."  
"Oh," I'm surprised and extremely, extremely turned on. "Okay." My stomach is kicking from nerves and excitement. I've never topped before. Troye still has his hand around my dick, and suddenly I want to, need to, fuck him so badly. 

"Troye-" In a single, fluid motion, his pants are in the ground. No matter how many times I see him naked, he still takes my breath away. He's gorgeous. He steps into the shower and I follow him. I'd follow him anywhere. We're standing in the spray and Troye's body is glistening and his hair is slicked back with water and he's so fucking hot that it's unraveling me. His hands are everywhere all at once and everything he touches feels like sunlight. He grabs my hand and holds it out, pouring lube into it until it's generously coated. 

I'm going to fuck Troye.  
Holy shit. 

"Troye, have you ever bottomed?" He licks his bottom lip, smiling.   
"I've taken my giant vibrator in the ass more than once, baby." The way he says that makes my breath catch in my throat. I really could cum right now.

I'm nervous and I think he can tell, and he puts his hands on my chest and smiles. That megawatt Troye Sivan smile. The smile that made me fall in love with him. 

"Don't worry, Connor." So I don't. I don't worry when he turns around and hooks his leg up onto the shower's bench and I don't worry when I slide a finger into him and gasp at the foreign feeling. 

I don't worry when I curl my fingers up and he throws his head back and moans so loudly I'm sure the neighbors can hear it. 

I get so good at not worrying that I'll hurt him or do something wrong that when he puts his arms around my neck and wraps his legs around my torso so I can fuck him, I barely feel a tug on my stomach. I can feel his cock against me, rock hard. And then it's happening. I guide my dick into him, about an inch, and he lets out a string of cusses and moans so obscene I can't believe they came out of him. I desperately want to thrust into him, but I stay still, letting him adjust. 

"Move," he breathes, using his legs on the shower wall to slide down onto my cock. There are tears in his eyes, from pleasure or pain or both. I thrust lightly, experimentally, and he throws his head into my shoulder, screaming. He's scratching up and down my back and I know it'll leave marks. My vision is going blurry from how good it feels to have Troye riding me, moaning into my body. I'm maybe about halfway into him, and he presses down all of the way. The feeling when I bottom out is unlike anything I knew existed. Gasps and grunts and moans are escaping my lips, and Troye is raising hell with his head thrown back, screaming my name. I get a rhythm going, thrusting in time with his moans. I'm hitting something inside him that's making him clench and unclench around me. 

"Touch me," he gasps, and I reach around to jerk him off. I'm losing rhythm as I get closer to my own orgasm, which is building up in my pelvis like a ball of fire getting ready to explode into him. Troye lets put an earth-shattering scream and comes in ribbons on my chest and face. Just seconds afterwards, I'm filling him up, head lolling against the shower wall and moaning. 

"Oh my god." Troye is wrapped around me, his eyes holding mine.  
"Oh my god." I agree. 


	4. you don't have to say I love you to say I love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just lots of cute boy lovvvv

"Ow, fuck." Troye rolls over onto his stomach, wincing.  
"Are you that sore?"  
"Apparently." He's holding my hand, tracing the lines across it with his fingers.  
"Yikes, I'm sorry, baby." My brows are knitted together with worry. I did this to him?  
"Don't be," he presses a finger onto my lips. "It's not like my vibrator can do this to me." He's smirking and my ears are hot.  
"It was really good." I murmur.  
"Really good." There's a long pause. "I think I like getting nailed in the ass." And I'm looking at him, at his messy hair and gorgeous grinning face and his slender hands that are holding mine, and everything I feel for him tumbles out of me in a rush.  
"TroyeIReallyLoveYou." He looks stunned and my stomach immediately drops off the Empire State. He's quiet for so long that I pull my hands away and mumble sorry. But then he's hugging me and I'm melting into his arms and he's giggling.  
"What? Troye-" it's hard not to be a little hurt. I told him how I felt and he's fucking laughing.  
"No, it's just- I wasn't sure if you reciprocated the feelings." I'm suddenly filled with such intense joy that I think I might start to cry. I kiss him, lightly, on the lips.  
"I really love you. Really really." I sound out of breath.  
"Me too. Really really." He's smiling and I want to drown in it.  
"You told me that- that you loved me, when you came home wasted." I'm not sure if he remembers.  
"Yeah," he blushes. "Wasn't really the time or place."  
"I thought it was just the tequila talking."  
"Not just the tequila." I don't think I've ever felt this weightlessly happy before. He loves me. He loves me!  
"It's been an eventful twenty four hours." I murmur.  
"No kidding," he adds. "I still can't sit down."  
"Look at how much you scratched me," I giggle, pulling up my shirt at the back. His eyes get wide.  
"Damn, I did that? Does it hurt?" He sounds worried, and I take his face in my hands and kiss him.  
"No, baby. It doesn't."  
Nothing could ever hurt with you, Troye Sivan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, thanks so much for reading!! this is my first fic and I'm pretty happy with the way things turned out! I would appreciate it so much if you could leave kudos or comment on what you liked or what I should change about it


End file.
